


that was a date you asked me on, right?

by Arcaratus



Category: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's 8
Genre: F/F, Listen here, it's fluffy, so guess who's doing the job, there's still not enough content about my beautiful soft gays, they're soft and in love, trust me - Freeform, your resident subpar fanfiction writer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-28 17:03:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15053819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcaratus/pseuds/Arcaratus
Summary: Rose is a hopeless baby gay and Daphne is in love. (Even though she totally knows something is up and she's going to get to the bottom of whatever shenanigans Rose is involved in.) But first, dinner.





	1. Chapter 1

Despite popular opinion, Daphne Kluger is not a completely vapid fool; case in point, when Rose Weil is putting on her awful show of complimenting her neck, she knows something is up. The acting is just  _ that bad _ , and no one would be that invested in complimenting her neck of all things when there are  _ much  _ better assets to praise, so there must be a reason for Rose’s adoration of her admittedly fantastic neck.

Part of her wants to ask, to poke and prod and find out what’s going on right underneath her nose. 

The other part is willing to let it go. After all, Rose is so enthusiastic about the god-like quality of her neck that Daphne knows at least some of the performance is fueled by true admiration for her, well, neck. 

To be fair, Daphne completely agrees with Rose - her neck  _ is _ a work of art made for the gods and she’s ready to let it all go if it means Rose will continue to whisper in that heavenly Irish accent and caress her neck just so - and Daphne chides herself. A pretty woman starts openly admiring her physical qualities and suddenly she’s too helpless to stop what she’s sure is something criminal right before her.

Laying her hand over Rose’s, Daphne nods to herself, breathing deeply, “Okay. I’m going to look absolutely amazing with the Toussaint on my neck and whatever dress you make for me, and it’ll all be  _ perfect _ .”

Rose seems to agree, but she hastily moves to remove her hand out from under Daphne’s own and okay, wow, rude, but the designer is already too busy bustling around Daphne’s room for any pointed glares to have any effect.

“Now, if you could just stand up for me to finish the fitting?” Rose requests, and Daphne obliges; she stands tall, back straighter than she’s been since third grade, and Rose continues pinning the fabric around her.

Which, okay, pinning fabric on someone isn’t exactly a sensual affair in of itself, but Rose is really up in Daphne’s personal space and she has some weird floral perfume that smells halfway between lilac and walnut? It’s weird but oddly pleasant and Daphne just wants Rose to get  _ closer _ .

Which she won’t.

Daphne doesn’t really understand why, but Rose seems to have made it her mission to keep some invisible wall between her and Daphne, as if there’s something physically stopping her from touching Daphne in any way that isn’t absolutely necessary even when she is so, so close to her. She has this focussed look of concentration directed at the pins of all things - and not at Daphne’s much more interesting physical qualities. It’s absurd. Every designer Daphne has ever had before never cared about personal space bubbles; every single one except Rose Weil.

It wouldn’t be nearly as frustrating if it weren’t for the fact that out of all the designers in the world, there is only one that Daphne would actually  _ like _ to touch her.

And, Daphne’s not an idiot. She  _ knows _ there is a reason Rose won’t touch her. If it has anything to do with the neck-adulation of a few minutes past, she will be sorely disappointed. So of course, Daphne resolves to find out.

“Hey Rose?” Daphne interrupts the designer’s studious pinning work.

“Hmm?” Rose looks up, needle securely held between her teeth and it is the most  _ adorable _ thing Daphne’s seen since, well, ever. She might be biased.

“Why did you pick the Toussaint?” Daphne asks, “Like, what made it so much better than any other piece of jewelry that you simply  _ had  _ to put it around my neck?”

Rose seems to think about the question before replying, “Well,” she begins, “The Toussaint, like any accessory, is only as good as the person it’s accessorizing, and even though you could pull off a chain of rusted iron, it doesn’t mean you should settle for anything but the best. After all, you could do any old group of diamonds justice - but the Toussaint is one of those pieces that could do  _ you  _ justice.” 

Without thinking about it, Daphne raises her hand to touch gently at her own neck as Rose answers, and when Rose finishes, she leaves it there to contemplate her words. “That was very well said,” She comments, “And honest. Thank you.” It was true - compared to the neck speech, Rose’s answer was the most honest thing about this whole designer affair she had seen so far.

“It’s only the truth,” Rose replies, rising up to stand and look slightly less up at Daphne, “Now, if that’s all I think this we’ve done enough today. How do you feel about the fit of the dress?”

“It’s perfect,” Daphne responds, sending a dazzling smile at Rose, “I can’t wait to see the final product.”

“Oh great.” Rose looks oddly relieved, as if everything hinges on Daphne liking what she has to offer.

Daphne changes into normal clothes and turns to look at Rose go about doing whatever it is she does. For now, it seems to involve the eccentric designer putting on her weird techie-looking glasses and spinning slowly around the room, as if in a trance. “You okay there?”

Rose startles, whirling around to face Daphne, her precariously balanced crown of hair nearly toppling over itself as she scrambles to answer. It’s endearing, if slightly strange. “Wha? Oh, of course. I’m fine. Just, you know, taking it all in.”

“Really?” Daphne’s not buying it, and Rose seems to be able to understand that if her flustered looks are anything to say by. Getting Rose flustered isn’t exactly hard, per se, but Daphne finds a special pleasure in watching the scatterbrained designer blush around her. It’s something she’d like to see more often, Daphne concludes.

It’s as if Rose knows exactly who she’s talking to, though, because she immediately turns the conversation onto Daphne’s favorite subject - herself. “Yes, yes, yes! Of course! It must be crazy, spending all your time in the height of luxury, everything carefully catered to suit your needs - I can only imagine what it must be like to be treated to this finery at all times! You are truly a blessed person.”

“Well, of course I am!” Daphne tosses her hair over her shoulder and sending a heated look towards Rose, “I’m beautiful, talented, and the whole world knows it.”

Rose nods enthusiastically in agreement, and Daphne beams, struck by a sudden moment of genius. She moves to embrace Rose in a completely unexpected hug and exclaim, “Oh, I can see us becoming the best of friends!”

Uncertainly, Rose reciprocates, lightly patting Daphne on the back. “To be sure!” She agrees slowly, and oh, Daphne feels kind of bad for the poor dear who doesn’t really understand what’s going on - but, also, she can just imagine the light-pink - rose-coloured - blush staining the designer’s cheeks and she smiles. Mission accomplished.

“Now,” Daphne grins wickedly, pulling back to look Rose in the eye. “How about dinner?”

“Yes?” Rose replies, sounding both confused and flustered, which is  _ absolutely perfect _ and honestly, no one deserves to be as adorable as she is.

“I’ll take it.”

As Daphne is leading Rose out of the building, onto the street and towards the nearest Michelin-starred restaurant she can find, Rose asks cautiously, “Just to be sure, you meant this in a romantic sense, right?”

“I very much did.” Daphne agrees.

“Okay.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner and then Daphne is horrified that Rose has not done any dumb romcom level stuff in her life. Obviously, the solution is to do every dumb romcom-esque thing she can.

Daphne knows that her attraction to Rose needs to take the backseat until she figures out what Rose’s deal is. Unfortunate, really, because Rose is really into her. And she is really into Rose.

They take their seats in the restaurant, a secluded corner in the back where no one will notice or bother them, and Daphne is already setting up her game plan. Step 1? Interrogate Rose. Step 2? Date Rose.

“So,” Daphne starts, propping her head up on her hand and gently swirling her glass of water, “Was my neck your whole inspiration for my dress and the Toussaint?”

Rose groans, playfully burying her face in her hands to hide her blush, “Are we back to your neck again?”

Daphne grins, “Well, it’s a fantastic neck, and I totally understand your appreciation for it,” She trails off when Rose whimpers, taking pity on the  _ adorable _ designer, “But, if you don’t want to talk about my neck, what else would you like to talk about? My hands? My arms?” She sticks out a leg and wiggles it around, “My legs, perhaps?”

Rose peeks out between her hands to look at Daphne’s legs and stares just a moment too long to Daphne’s delight. “Well, they are excellent legs,” She admits and blushes even brighter, her cheeks reddening like a rose.

“Aww,” Daphne coos, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Rose mumbles, clearly embarrassed by how obvious her interest is.

The waiter comes by to take their orders, Daphne ordering their signature dish quickly, eager to return to their conversation, but Rose seems to have other ideas. She starts ordering her full course meal, listing off things she wants in  _ French _ of all things, the server nodding dutifully along. Daphne is slightly annoyed that their conversation has been put on hold, but she can take the moment to admire Rose’s flawless French - paired with her lilting Irish accent, Daphne could probably just fall in love with her  _ voice _ . Daphne can just imagine; Rose pushing her onto a bed, calm orders in French telling her just what to do-

“Hello? Earth to Daphne,” Daphne is snapped out of her daydream by Rose snapping her fingers in front of her face, “Our server wants to know if you have any dietary restrictions...?”

“Huh? Oh, no. I don’t.” Daphne smiles graciously, “I’m good with whatever. Give me everything you’ve got!” She sounds like an utter fool, but the server nods and Rose doesn’t really seem to care.

In fact, Rose is strangely consumed by whatever’s on her phone, tapping out messages quickly and muttering softly to herself. Considering Rose barely seems to know where her phone is half the time, Daphne is immediately suspicious. “Someone important?”

“What?” Rose looks up, fear flashing across her eyes, “No, it’s nothing, nothing at all..." She shakes her head, sends off one last message, and closes her phone. “Just...someone’s concern about the train for the gala. It should all be dealt with now.”

Now, Daphne is not Hollywood’s second most well-paid actress of 2018, winner of an Emmy, a Golden Globe, and an Oscar because she’s a bad actress. And she can recognize bad acting from a mile away. “Someone’s texting you at,” She checks her phone, “Six o'clock in the afternoon because they have concerns about the train. Despite the fact that the dress hasn’t been made yet, and the Gala is in four weeks?”

“They like to be prepared?”

“Sure.” Daphne lets it go because Rose looks like a frightened deer in headlights. She’s going to get to the bottom of whatever’s going on, but she values the potential for a relationship with Rose just a bit more. “Actually, I’ve been wondering. From what I understand, you were in talks to design someone else’s dress? But you agreed to do mine instead. Why?”

Rose doesn’t hesitate to reply, “I wasn’t? I mean, everyone seems to think I was going to Penelope’s dress, but she just really wanted to meet me? Apparently she was a fan. And then, you offered, and why would I ever say no to designing for such a beautiful person as you?”

“So you just met with her because she wanted to? Conveniently in front of a Page Six reporter who took a picture of you two and plastered it across the tabloids?”

“Yes?” Rose herself seems unsure, thinking over the events of the past week, “It all seems very convenient, doesn’t it?” She muses aloud.

“Quite.” Daphne agrees. However, instead of following up with the lead, she puts her elbow onto the table and rests her head on her palm, leaning subtly towards Rose, “But what I was more concerned about was that the tabloids seemed to imply you two had something going on...?”

Rose looks startled at the accusation, nearly dropping the glass she was raising to her lips. “But, she’s like fifteen!” She protests.

Daphne nods as slowly, “So if she wasn’t fifteen, you would have been okay with that?”

“No!” Rose vehemently denies. “Well..."

“Okay, no.” Daphne puts her hand up to stop Rose’s train of thought, “Remember who you’re on a date with.”

“I mean, she’s nothing compared to you,” Rose admits, making Daphne blush slightly, “She’s pretty, but you’re stunning.”

“Okay that was good for my ego.” Daphne accepts.

“You’re welcome?” Rose looks both lost  _ and _ flustered, which Daphne finds wonderfully endearing.

“Oh, I am  _ very _ welcome,” Daphne replies, batting her eyelashes as flirtatiously as possible. It seems to work because Rose can only hold her gaze for a short moment before looking away.

“Do you find special pleasure in making me blush?” Rose asks bluntly, “Because you’re doing a very good job of it.”

“Oh, am I?” Daphne questions innocently, leaning closer and closer to Rose, “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“What do you want me to do?” Rose looks panicked for a moment, glancing around the restaurant to see if anybody has noticed the two of them before focusing back at Daphne, “This is a date you asked me on. Which means you like me, right?”

Daphne nods slowly.

“And I like you-”

“Oh I sure hope you do.” Daphne agrees brightly.

“And we like each other, on a date - which is great, but I’m not exactly sure what we’re supposed to do after that.” Rose admits, blushing fiercely at the admission that she is lost on proper dating etiquette. “So, what do you want me to do?”

“Wait. Back up. Have you ever been in a real relationship before?” Daphne asks, noticing the way Rose seems to almost shrink in on herself at the question.

“No...not really. Everything has always been about my clothes, my art.”

“Oh,” Daphne sighs, “Poor baby, you deserve everything a relationship gives and more. Have you ever had the chance to really  _ live? _ ”

Rose shakes her head.

Daphne abruptly stands up, “Come on.” She offers her hand to Rose, who uncertainly takes it. “We’re going to do every single dumb thing people in a relationship are supposed to do.”

Daphne leads Rose out of the restaurant before she takes off, running towards Central Park and dragging Rose alongside her.

The two of them barely make it into the park before Daphne collapses onto the grass and brings Rose down with her, a pile of limbs flailing around until Daphne is able to properly cuddle up into Rose. 

“This,” Daphne announces, “Is what people in New York do.” 

“Do they really?”

“I don’t know.” Daphne grins, “But I like to stay here and look at...not the stars, but the sky.”

Rose looks doubtful, opening her mouth to question Daphne’s logic when she is quieted by a glare.

Daphne sits up and puts a finger to Rose’s lips, silencing her as she explains, “You have absolutely no experience with proper relationships. I have Oscar-worthy experiences of what it  _ should _ be like so we’re going to do everything Daphne says tonight.”

Rose nods her head in agreement.

“Good.” Daphne lies back down and rests her head on Rose’s arm. 

“Do people really just lie here? On slightly wet grass and-”

Daphne cuts Rose off by rolling onto her, straddling the designer so that her legs bracket her hips. “Could you just stop worrying and enjoy the moment?”

Rose swallows. She nods.

Grinning smugly, Daphne moves her head down to drop a peck on Rose’s lips, “Good girl.”

She smiles against Rose when the woman underneath her lets out a startled “Eep!” and tenses against her.

Daphne pulls back, “Was that okay?”

Rose doesn’t respond, instead sitting up and winding her hands around Daphne’s neck to draw her into another kiss and pulling them back onto the still slightly wet grass. Daphne follows, knowing her clothes are going to be a mess after this, but she really can’t find it in herself to care when Rose is holding onto her and kissing her like the world depends on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these two so much that I am going to do another chapter just because Helena Bonham Carter and Anne Hathaway have given me endless inspiration for their characters. i've also realized that the pacing of all my stories is really weird, but I'll work on that the more I write. Conversely, if anyone ever needs to hire someone to write a ton of exposition and no plot, I'm your girl.

**Author's Note:**

> If you did not enjoy the fact that this story basically ended the same way as in my other Daphne/Rose fic, I can reasonably guarantee that there will be an actual dinner chapter! Eventually. Someday. Probably tomorrow if I'm inspired.
> 
> Also, if you want to come scream about The Gays™ with me on tumblr, here I am! [inserting-some-flowery-prose](https://inserting-some-flowery-prose.tumblr.com/)


End file.
